Denice K. Leslie
April 23, 2006
Second Sunday of Easter
Acts 4: 32-35
I John 1: 1 -2:2
John 20: 19- 31
An In the First Person Sermon: 
“Blessed are those who have not seen…”

	The Sunday after Easter can be such a let down! The big organ, the special choral music, the liturgical pageantry… all over-- and here we are on another ordinary Sunday. Living in our ordinary world with all its realities. Nothing much seems to have changed. And besides all that, in the cold gray morning light through half closed eyes we may find ourselves saying—“I wasn’t there when Jesus rose from the dead. How do I know what really happened? I mean it would be nice. I’d love to believe it but….I have my reservations about it all.” Feel like that? Have your doubts sometimes? 
	It would sure help if the sun would come out to stay. Can I get an affirmation on that? That would lift our spirits—make God’s miracles seem a little more possible in this old, cold work-a day world. 
	We all have our doubts. Doubts make good Christians, actually. I know. Because my name is Thomas. I know you think of me as Doubting Thomas, but as I said, I’m not so different from any of you. That fact of the matter is, I was a faithful, loyal and courageous disciple who went on, as tradition will tell you, to spread the gospel in India. I was always a restless man—never could sit still or stay in just one place. I need to be doing. 
	Don’t believe me? Well scripture records my steadfastness. When we got the word that Lazarus was near death, it was I who stood up and said “Hey! Let’s all go back to Bethany with Jesus, —I know they tried to assassinate Jesus there just a few days before—so what! Let’s all go back with him and die there! It beats sitting around here!” I was a man of action. 	
	Wake up out there! Christ is risen! Even if we don’t believe it or act like it. Or think about it much after Easter Sunday. That’s why I’m here this morning. To help you through this time of transition—this let down period when all the family has gone home and the left over ham in the frig is getting old hat and if you see another piece of green cellophane Easter basket grass on the floor or in the crannies of the couch you’re gonna scream! 
	But I was talking about myself. As I said, I was committed. At the upper room meal when Jesus told us, “You know where I am going…” I said, “Lord, we don’t know where you’re going –how can we know if you don’t show us the way.” I was ready to follow I just needed some Map Quest directions. As I said, I am a man of action--not a sit still and lets talk kind of person. I want to be out there doing what God has called us to do and to help Jesus do it.
	All I ever wanted was to be with Jesus. To follow Jesus. And then he was arrested and we were terrified and yes, I fled just like all the rest of them. For the first three days I just couldn’t imagine going on—what was there to live for? Not that I was capable of imagining much of anything I couldn’t experience right in front of me: as in see, hear, touch or do. 
	As I was saying, Jesus was gone. The purpose of my life was destroyed with him. It was more than I could handle. 
	It was about a week since his death—and Mary of Magdala’s story about seeing the Lord. I just decided I couldn’t take it any longer—fear or no fear I just had to get out of that stifling, cramped room and go find her. I reasoned that if I could find Mary, she could tell me something that might help me see him too. 
	Well, I didn’t find her. That was disappointing. I even went out to the tomb and sat there for few hours hoping against hope she’d show up or maybe HE would show up! But the tomb stayed cold, silent and empty. 
	 I finally returned to the others and what do they tell me? I missed out! They say they’ve seen him. I don’t believe it for a minute! None of them was anymore committed than I. Why should they see him and not me?
	So I tell them,” Well I haven’t seen him. I’m not going to believe you until I see for myself—until I see the wounds in his hands and feet and in his side-that is what it’s going to take!”
	I felt really left out and frankly jealous of the others. It’s pretty obvious to me how they’ve changed—I can see they are no longer so fearful, so demoralized. I mean they really had no idea of what to do with what happened at that point but they were definitely changed. Except me. The frustration of that moment I will never forget! 
 	When I left the first time they begged me not to go and almost forbade me from returning, so fearful were they that someone would recognize me as one of Jesus’ inner circle. They thought I’d lead the authorities back to them. But I was careful. I’m no fool.
	 I pay close attention to my surroundings. I returned by a different route than when I went out and I paused and waited until the passers by had all changed before I proceeded again. 
	I truthfully didn’t see any soldiers or religious leaders out there looking for us—I suppose there could be others who would cheerfully turn us in for a reward. But—it didn’t happen. 
	So I went out more than once after that. As I said, I can’t sit still and do nothing. I think I just didn’t know what else to do with myself, truthfully. So I tried to keep busy—to keep moving—to keep the mind numbing reality of our situation at bay.
	And then it happened to me as well.
We were together in the room about a week later and of course, we had the doors shut and barred. Jesus was there! Not some apparition—but himself. As solid and familiar as myself! I was stunned—joy hit me smack in the face—I was amazed—perplexed and relieved—all at the same time!! 
	 My heart burned within me at the sight of him and my hands itched to touch him! I ran to him. Before I could say anything, he said, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.”
	That is what I did! To feel his presence after I was so sure I would never see him, hear him, touch him again was overwhelming. I got it then. I mean I know I have always been a dense man—a man needing to see, to feel, to touch and hear—a concrete person. But I finally got it. What I was seeing was far beyond any physical reality. And echoed in my response to his presence: “My Lord and my God!” As clear as day. 
 	Yes, it was clear who he was, what he was. How everything he’d said and even more importantly DID make it all clear to me. 
	After that I realized how many of the things Jesus did in my presence when I served with him revealed to me who he was. 
	Touching his wounds became much more than a mere exercise for disproving my doubt. I needed to touch him because I needed him. I missed his presence. I wanted to be in his presence. I wanted to be a part of his wholeness. To receive his gracious, loving acceptance. To feel the presence of God at work in my world—our world—our very wounded world. 
	Now I understood how I could find him. Touching his wounds made me recall his words, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.” 
	Jesus was telling me there is another way to see. Another way to touch him. To be in his presence. He was telling me that seeing is believing—or is it better to say to you: believing is seeing? 	Let me give you a contemporary example: 
	“The Greek writer Nikos Kazantzakis told about the monk who had long planned to go to Jerusalem to see the Holy Sepulcher. 
	He finally began with the money he had saved over 40 years. Soon after he left the monastery, he passed a field where a pale, emaciated man was digging roots out of the ground, and he said to the monk, 	
	"Good morning, Father. Where are you going?" The monk replied, "I am going to Jerusalem to see the Holy Sepulcher, where Christ was buried, and I am going to march around it three times and pray." The man in the field said, "That trip will cost much money." "Yes," said the monk, "all my life's savings." 
	Then the man suggested, "Father, why not march around me three times and give me the money so that my wife and children might have food." And the monk did. 
	The monk never saw where Christ was buried. But he saw where Christ was alive and living -- in other people!”
	That monk longed to be in the presence of the Lord. What he discovered was what I discovered: All I had to do to be in the presence of Christ was to reach out and touch his wounds—reach out and touch the wounded of this world. All I had to do was to serve those in need as he did. To bind up their wounds and bring them the wholeness of God’s love. 
	Yes, Church, I am here today to help you with your transition. Too often we come to the Easter feast ready to hear what’s in it for each of us individually.
	 And when we hear once more those words of promise fulfilled: Christ is risen! We are all too often satisfied. We leave church with the security of our eternal salvation clasped in our hand—the service bulletin with the beauty of an Easter lily printed on it in full color—as our evidence that its all true. And we stop there. 
	But we can’t stop there. 
	We distraught disciples sat in that upper room until it almost became our tomb. We forgot the tomb was empty. The purpose of our discipleship is not to cling to him—remember Mary’s words at the garden tomb? She said Jesus told her, “Do not cling to me… I go to my father. But go and tell the disciples you have seen the Lord.”
	When we met him in the upper room his words to us were, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”
	Jesus sends us out of our tombs and into the world. Into his risen life to share it with others. As a man of action I appreciate that! I have found my purpose restored. Because I have found Jesus—again. 
	Since every Sunday is a celebration of the resurrection-and since every Sunday is an encounter with Christ—we are to follow him ---out the door of the church and into the world.
	I noticed when I arrived here this morning that you have a special entrance in your church lobby. It says,”Servants entrance.” It’s a banner hung up over the EXIT of your building here. I was so please to see that. I am going to watch you leave this morning to see if you actually use it!
	But before I do that I will leave you with one more contemporary story to help you along your way. It is a parable about a wild goose shot down by a local hunter. 
	Only wounded in one wing, he landed safely in a barnyard. Naturally the local turkeys and chickens were quite startled by this sudden visitor from the sky.
	 As they became more comfortable with this stranger, however, it was only natural to ask about what they had seen but never experienced: “Tell us what it’s like to fly.” 
	“It’s wonderful!” said the goose, who told story after story of his flights. “It’s beautiful to soar out in the wild blue yonder! 
	Why this barn looks only an inch high and all of you look like tiny specks from such a distance. First you fly high and then you can glide and enjoy the astonishing scenery.” 
	All the birds were quite impressed by the goose’s stories. Later they asked him to tell more stories about flying. Soon, it became a weekly event for the goose to entertain all the barnyard birds with his stories. They even provided a little box for him to stand on so everyone could see him better. 
	But the strangest thing happened, or maybe I should say … never happened. 	
	While the domestic birds very much enjoyed hearing about the glories of flight, they never tried to fly themselves. And the wild goose, even though his wing healed, continued to talk about flying but never actually flew again.… 
	How easy it is to talk about being a Christian without acting like one. How easy it is to stand in church and say, “Jesus is Lord,” without actually turning our lives over to his direction. How easy it is to sit in our comfortable seats and ignore a world in desperate need of our witness. How easy it is as a minister to talk about ministry without actually doing it.
	 It’s easy to talk, but you must really flap those wings to fly.”
	This is what I learned when I touched Jesus, I needed to start flapping my wings and fly if I would see Jesus. 
	To see Jesus is to serve him. Do you doubt? That is okay. Your founder John Wesley doubted as well. And so he set about acting on his faith until he had faith. This is your Methodist way. Did you know that? The grace of God at work in you is this, as Wesley expressed it, “Act as if you have faith, and you will have faith.”
	The operative word here? Act. Take it from a man who knows. 
	Christ is risen!